Yep

I'm so backlogged with posts I've intended to write. Oftentimes I'll take pictures of whatever it is that has inspired a thought about what to write about. After the uploading and copying and pasting and resizing I become distracted by shiny things. Or the TV with its sounds and words, and I just never get around to writing. Or I write and I can't bring myself to publish for some reason. For many reasons.

Here's my cake for my fifth birthday. I'm five.



I'm not five actually. (Just emotionally.) This was the cake marking my fifth year anniversary at my school. Cuh-ray-zee. I never never thought I would last five years here. It's as much a triumph as it is tragically pathetic. I remember my first day at the school, visiting the ladies washroom and encountering the first two stalls with disgustingly splattered squatty toilets and I swore if there was a third version in the next stall I was absolutely outta here. There was a Western throne waiting for me as I opened the final door, so I decided to wait and see.

That cake was good, though. My cake. My co-worker (manager?) celebrated her birthday this past week and my boss got her a cake and a big bunch of pretty but nearing death flowers. If there is a bigger fan of chocolate than my co-worker Cindy, I haven't met them. She spent some time in Australia and hath tasted the riches of a deep moist sweet dense chocolate cake. She's spent time here searching for such a brown unicorn, but I think it's a lost cause. Still, there's no question as to what kind of cake to get for Cindy, but leave it to a man - and you get sweet potato cake. An abomination regardless.

As it was, I woke up early and put together a giant pasta salad. I grilled up vegetables on my silly grilly sandwich press thing, and included smoked chicken and sun-dried tomatoes with a tasty dressing of garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, rosemary, thyme, and fresh parsley. After our little celebration less than one third of the heinous "goguma" cake was eaten, while two very big containers of pasta salad were gobbled up. Score!

So there. I've written something. Maybe it'll shake me out of my funk. I'm into my third day of a "staycation" - a term I just came across this week, and I've found that I've had too much time to hang out by myself considering how much I actually hate my current circumstances. Hate-hate.

Hatey-hate-hate-hate.

Here. Look at this bug.



I don't even know what it is, but it looks like an evil flying newt. It's representative of my unhappiness. I coaxed it onto a piece of paper and set it free outside an open window at school. Not a bad lesson: capture the unpleasant and set it free.

**UPDATE: I received an e-mail from someone (perhaps an entomologist?) who points out that bug up above is actually a mole cricket! Here's a couple fun facts: these bugs are quite common, but rarely seen because they spend almost all their lives underground. They're commonly considered to be pests, except in Eadt Asia where they're sometimes considered FOOD! (Fried mole crickets, yum yum yum!) Thank you, E-mailer!**

On the Farm

Last weekend I ventured out to the countryside to visit new mom Bella and her three little puppies.



She's looking quite a bit more svelte than the last time I saw her, but this angle is deceiving, as she's got some juggy pendulous milk filled boobs on her undercarriage. She's being a good mother. I watched her step into the box where her little puppies stayed and lick them awake before settling down to let them nurse. The pups can't see - they're eyes weren't open yet, and they can't walk either, yet they were able to wriggle their way toward Bella's teats to get their milk on. They look like fat little cows.



I had no idea what the puppies would look like. Bella's beau is a mystery. But they're very cute. Once I'd otten back home, I googled "newborn shih-tzu puppies" and I'll be damned, but I'm pretty sure Bella's puppies are the real deal. Here's one of Bella's:



And you can compare that puppy with the ones here.



So they're going to be super cute! I'm planning to go back there next weekend and play with the puppies. By then, their eyes will be open and they'll be mobile. Even though they were cute, on this last visit they just weren't very much fun. Sleep and eat and repeat. Still, I was so pleased that Bella's being such a good caring mother.



My boss's parents have a farm out in the country near Yeoungchun (which is about halfway between Gyueongju and Daegu.) They have jindos out back.



The jindos did not like me and barked their heads off whenever I went near. I just hate the idea that these beautiful big dogs spend their lives chained out back, and I wished they were friendly enough that I could take them all (or one at a time would probably be smarter) for a nice walk. Still, they seem fit and they have shelter and food and water. Actually, my boss's parents had ONE jindo - the one on the far right of the picture. Then one day they were surprised at how fat she'd gotten and wouldn't you know, she'd had a suitor swing by at some point and gotten herself pregnant. So now her two grown children live beside her.

I don't understand it, but I've come across a lot of resistance from folks around here about having animals spayed or neutered. To some, it's unnatural. There are lots of things I've come to learn and understand about K-culture in the near six years I've been here, but generally, their attitude toward animals is just something I can't get my head around. I try not to think about it very often becuase it riles me up something wicked. So let's change the subject for now, yes?

Pile of puppies, pile of puppies, pile of puppies.



(Oh, let me add that even though the Jindos live chained out back, Bella is being spoiled. She has free run of the farm and seems so happy! I was laughing at how she would come BOUNDING toward me when I'd call her. She's well fed and cared for. I just hope she stays the hell away from the big yellow dogs who seem like they would very much like to have her for breakfast. (Same goes for her puppies. I'm already worried that they won't have the sense to keep back once they're mobile.)



Out back, my boss's mom keeps pots filled up with kimchi, denjang, and gochujang. His mom is a fantastic cook, and we enjoyed rustic home-style delicious meals. With pork. Lots and lots of pork! No pictures, but we had fried fish and denjang jjigae for dinner Saturday. Kimchi jjigae for lunch Sunday, and (I forget the very long name for it) delicious pork bone soup and sliced steamed pork (bo-ssam?) for dinner. My boss's mom makes the best kimchi I've ever tasted and she's always so generous making sure I'm well stocked.



They grow grapes. Yeoungchun, I was told, "is famous for it's grapes, plums, and peaches."



They're not ready for harvest. Around Chuseok it's grape season. In the early fall these greenies will be purpley-blue and ready for eating. I still prefer sweet seedless grapes from North America, which I'm so glad are available at the larger supermarkets these days.

I don't think I'd ever seen a chestnet tree before.



And o'er yonder is a plum orchard.



I left the farm Sunday evening loaded down with plums, cukes, eggplant, and a massive amount of their spring harvested crops: onions, potatoes, and garlic. I've actually given about two thirds of my loot away and I still have enough to last ages. Oh, and I scored a nice sized tub of my boss's mother's outstandingly stinky denjang paste.

At one point Sunday afternoon I picked myself up off the livingroom floor where I'd been alternately dozing and watching a movie and walked outside with Bella into a field where I just stood for awhile and listened to the river gurgle by, and cows lowing in the distance. Hundreds of dragonflies flew around me. I felt so calm and content.

And hot.

My god, it was hot. I could have slipped into a joyous happy trance if it weren't for the fact I felt like I was bloody well melting. I had to go get some cream on Monday for the heat rash that had enveloped my mid-section over the weekend. Damn!

Still, good times.

Soft Core

My neighbourhood has recently become dotted with these punchey vending machine games things that have replaced the crane candy grab and slidey platform game things that replaced the old timey yellow crane dollar store sing a song grabby game machine thingies.

You know what I mean, right?

The new punchey vending machine game things are high tech looking neon lit boop-dee-boo happy la-la tune things.

*Excuse me a moment* "GAM-BEH! ONE SHOT!" *CLINK*

Where was I? *Hic!*

The prizes offered were these little animated cartooney things. You put the in the sunlight and they waggle their heads and maybe their feet and they also sing a happy song tell the time hold your spare change do nothing else. Their cute factor is engaging for about five minutes, but then they're fairly boring. I know this because I stupidly threw out my television when I won at the punchey vending machine, figuring I'd have all the viewing entertainment I'd need with Doraemon here:



Turns out, not so much. I keep violently shaking him, "DO SOMETHING ELSE!" But, he just smiles at me and wags his head and feet back and forth.

I guess the neighbourhood kids complained to the vending machine makers. In this age of computers and game-boys and cellphones, I imagine the solar powered bobble head animated character things aren't cutting the mustard. So there have been some new additions in the machines to please the kiddies:



Soft core pr0n anime dolls! Yeeeee haw!
(Money Box! Cherries! Bwa ha ha ha ha!)

They come in a variety of poses, and don't even move in the sunlight, but still - they're TAKING OFF THEIR CLOTHES!



Can't....look....away!



I wonder what they'll put in the machines next?

Some Students

I shouldn't hate kids. I know this. I'm a teacher and I should embrace the challenge of bestowing some Engulishee on children in my classes; especially the ones who don't give a crap and are better suited to some sort of class where the goal is to wander around trying to stab other students with pencils. Pencil stabbing class. Fun!

Most of my students are great. Some are outstanding. I often feel like scooping up one or another into my arms and telling then how spectacular they are, but generally the scooping and the smushing is embarrassing for the kids - so I find another way to point out their awesomeness.

But there are some students,....hoooooo boy - I wonder what their mothers are thinking. By and large they are "first sons" which is a prized position here in Korea. Even more often, the ones that give me the most hassle are "only sons," and I think to myself,...well something about maybe the kid should visit a temple and praise Buddha they're not MY first son because I would smite them for their shitty behaviour. Smite, I say. ("Beat" I don't say, because that's not PC. I would never beat a child, but yet sometimes my imagination runs wild.) Still, I realize that my worse students have been somehow created to be wee monters, so I sometimes imagine smiting their moms who probably find their children's tantrums adorable.

It's the students who make me micro-manage my classes that bug me. The ones who can't stay in their seats. The ones who are compelled to hit their classmates. The ones who can't help themselves from constantly interrupting my lessons with their bad behaviour. I have one middle school student who just recently started, and I knew almost instantly he was going to be trouble when I tried to give him an English nickname. (This is fairly common in English classes, and I don't dislike it - it's so much easier than trying to remember 200 names that are foreign to my vocabulary. Regardless, that's the way it's always been done at my school, so I don't have a choice. "Be Yoon Ji" becomes "Joe." Fine by me. I like to provide the students with a few choices and let them pick their nickname. It takes a little more time than me just knighting them, "Ye shall be 'Donna,'" but I think it's good that make they own their choice. Usually I start off suggesting their name should be Spider Man.

So I knew my new middle school student was going to bug me when before I could get out the first syllable of my first suggestion of "Ja-son," he interrupted with his choice: "Hit-ler."
"Sorry?"
"Hitler! My name-uh is-uh Hitler."
"Are you kidding? Nong-dam?"
"HITLER!"

I assured him his name would NOT be Hitler, and asked him if he knew who Hitler was. Perhaps he did know, but he lacked the English to tell me. Hand to heart, he actually looked a bit like Hitler, with a severe side-part and hook-nose. Had puberty grown him a wee mustache, he could have entered a contest. I named him "Tony," after a thorn in my side boy I taught five years ago who has grown into a fabulous high school student complete with charisma and manners.

Long story short, Tony's new name didn't make a lick of difference. He railroaded my classes, and made teaching a most unpleasant experience. With four boys in that class, two of which lacked ability and the other two lacking interest (or enthusiasm or manners) they became my most hated class. They are my last class of the day on Wednesdays and Fridays. My second most hated class is chalk full of "first sons." I've got them first thing on Monday morning. They fight and whine and tattle-tale and take every liberty they think they can get away with. It's like my week is bookended by crap.

Yay, me.
And, "to be continued,....."

Bella's Babies

Bella had three puppies last Friday morning! There are two little boys and a girl! I haven't seen pictures yet, but I'm sure they're adorable. I'll share them as soon as I get them. Puppies!!

In other news, I stood outside for five minutes tonight hanging up laundry, and two hundred and forty three mosquitoes bit me.

That is all.

Bella's Belly

Remember the shih-tzu I rescued? She's so pretty! Things were moving along very well. An American military family who lives up in Seoul contacted me, very interested in Bella. They already have a shih-tzu they adopted from Animal Rescue Korea and with four kids and a mom who stays home, I knew it would be a great match for Bella. She's a very loving dog and really loves attention.

The Friday before last, we brought her into the animal hospital to get her a summer hair cut. I had wanted to wait, thinking that she might not get adopted as easily if she looked like a rat, but it turns out she's a pretty little girl under all that fur!



When I went to pick her up, I saw that her fur had also been hiding some massive nipples on her belly. I pointed at them and asked, "Is she pregnant?"
"No. Ande."
"Really? And she's never had babies before?"
The nurse confirmed she hadn't. I asked what was up, then, with the big knockers - and was told that she wanted babies.

Oh!

So I later googled something about dogs wanting babies and discovered that indeed, unspayed females can conjure up phantom puppies in their bellies.



"And the bitch was all 'I gotz me some ghost babies! Boo!' (Yaka!)"

So, okay. I agreed to have Bella spayed down here before I brought her up to Seoul on Saturday to meet her new family. My boss took her in Thursday morning and the vet expressed surprise at how seriously Bella was growing up her phantom puppies in her belly. One ultra-sound later and guess what? The ghosts are not so much ghostly as they are actually. Puppies. Fur realz.

One week later,....



"But he was so sweet, and promised he would still love me in the morning!"

So we didn't know quite what to do. My boss and co-workers (and the vet) thought I was sort of a monster for suggesting a spay/abortion sort of thing, but turns out Bella's quite far along and it could be dangerous for her, as you'd imagine. On the other hand, if they'd confirmed her pregnancy over three weeks ago when I'd brought her in for health tests and asked if she was pregnant - and told no,...the spay wouldn't have been an issue because the puppies would have been tiny. They wouldn't have even known she was pregnant before they operated.

I LOVE animals - and puppies!! Well, who doesn't love puppies?! But with so many dogs being put down at shelters everyday, and so many dogs roaming around Korea without homes, what we don't need is more puppies. Still, I would never want to risk the safety of any animal, so if the vet says no-go, then okay.


"It's okay. You can haz puppies."

So Bella's been moved to my bosses' mother's house out in the country. It's not the first time that she's overseen dog labour and birth. I'm glad that Bella's being watched so closely, and know that she'll be taken to the vet's if there are any complications, which there could be. Since only Bella knows who the papa is, she might be growing some big puppies in her belly. It could be troublesome. Fingers crossed everything goes well, and soon!

Hopefully the family who decided to adopt her won't change their mind while they wait for her to nurse her babies until they're ready to be adopted. So one down and, according to the vet, maybe four or five more to go.

Anyone want a cute little puppy in a couple months?

Sauced

This is what Kamikaze looks like when I'm drunk *hic* he's drunk *hic* we're drunk. We're so drunk.


*Hic*
He can haz soju?

Hey, What's Up?

I'm not sure what was going on under this little tent.


But, I was very tempted to smush my way into the crowd saying in rapid-fire English, "Hey what's going on in here? What are you guys looking at? Is something for sale? Is it something good? Can I have some? What's the deal?"

I wonder how long it would have taken for them to scatter.

Scene Below My Balcony

I came home tonight and Kamikaze the Cat was waiting on the inside mat to lovingly greet me with meows and kitty-licks to lumber outside and roll in the corridor. Downstairs, I could hear some Korean men brawling? fighting? speaking at normal Korean late-night volume arguing. Yes. They were definitely arguing.

I peeked my head over the side to spy check it out. Below me there was a taxi driver and some guy. Taxi Guy held Some Guy by the sleeve of his shirt. I was thinking they were probably arguing about the fare. Maybe the guy hadn't paid. I watched awhile longer and realized that the passenger was drunkity-drunk-drunk. He didn't protest at the taxi driver's grip on his shirt, probably because that was the only thing preventing him from reeling to the pavement. I also realized that the argument wasn't about the fare, but rather that Drunk Guy had left Taxi Man a little present in the back seat - a nice pile of puke. Taxi Man was insisting that Drunk Guy should stumble to his apartment and fetch some cleaning supplies and get to work.

I smiled, knowing that the likelihood of that happening was zilch. I was betting that as soon as Taxi Man let go of Drunk Guys collar there would be some falling and shortly thereafter, some snoring. But Taxi Man was persistent, and Drunk Guy was denying he'd barfed in the cab. Their shouting match went like this:
"I din't puke smmsnallshiisekkshi"
"YOU DID TOO! IT'S RIGHT THERE!"
"Wheeere shmmmshillla *hic!*"
"RIGHT THERE! IN THE BACKSEAT!"
"No. Opseyo. Thereesh nuthing."
"ISSOYO! LOOK!"
"Where?"
"RIGHT THERE! LOOK! HERE!" and he tried to shove Drunk Guy's head into the cab.

Things continued like that until finally Drunk Guy got frustrated and pretty much fell into the back of the cab to investigate. He then lurched out of the cab upright with his hands cupping a pile of puke, which he placed on the top of the cab.

Taxi Man lost his mind, pretty much - but didn't want to come near Drunk Guy now that his hands here covered in vomit. He screamed bloody murder while he slammed all the doors, inserted himself into the driver's seat, and screeched backwards out of the parking lot.

Drunk Guy wobbled curiously for just a few moments before he fell into the bushes.

Shicken

I went to this restaurant the other night that offered burn-your-face-off chicken. It's called Hong-Cho Bool Dak, and it's a franchise. If you're in Korea you might want to check it out. The chicken comes out all hot and fiery on a skillet. We had two versions, and I thought the mozzarella on the one dish would cut down on the spiciness, but it actually seemed hotter. I'm not sure why, but I thought our frosty bottle of soju really paired wonderfully with the meal. I was either too busy wiping tears from my fire face or downing shots that I seem to have not taken any pictures of our meal.

The menu does have some other exciting things on offer, though.


Not a little bit of wellbeing. Nor a decent sized amount. These pumpkin wedges are a MASS of wellbeing!


These fishes' balls escaped from the red and blue oceans and they've got a story to tell. It's castrantastic.


Chewy! Like Gummy! Yummy Chewy Gummy Chicken Feet! Num Num Num!

Ol' Fuzzy Face

We Will Rock You

My brother called me this morning. He sounded serious.

He started, "Lori" (his wife) "and I had very long debate this morning."

"Really?" I asked. I was sort of worried. My family has been going through some tough times lately. Hatfield and McCoy type shit, only we're the hyphenated version. Same-same.

"What were you talking about?" I asked, uneasy at his answer.

"We were arguing whether a city could actually be built on rock n' roll. Lori says no."

"Ummmmm. I think she's wrong!" I said.

" I KNOW!" He explained, "We could live in speakers. Cars can roll around on drums. There can be keyboard-boats. Xylophones and glockenspiels will be the roads and sidewalks."

"Xylophones and glockenspiels aren't very rock n' roll."

"Oh, whatever. They can rock."

"I suppose. I can see YES or Floyd employing them. Besides, the argument is moot, really. Starship already Built a City on Rock n' Roll. Doesn't Lori realize that?"

"I KNOW!!" he shouted. "That song rocks. They should play it on the radio. All the time. Only that song. Over and over."

"I KNOW!" I agreed.

"They could play the original at the top of the hour and then follow it with every band covering it. Every single band."

"Exactly! And there could be various stations. A classical station with orchestral versions."

"Right? And a county western station with twangy hoe-down versions."

"Seriously, man. Someone should get on that."

"I'M GETTING ON IT" Jeff shouted. "Right after I start BUILDING ANOTHER CITY!"

Knick Knack Paddy Whack...

FIND A DOG A HOME!
Again!

A couple weeks ago another dog showed up at my school. Well, really - dogs show up all the time. However, the one that showed up a couple weeks ago had obviously been someone's pet at some point. She's a shih-tzu, and although she was dirty and skinny, she had been groomed at some point. Her fur was in an overgrown "puppy-cut" style.

I scooped the dog up and brought her to the supermarket, where I'd been heading when I came downstairs and in addition to the ice cream I bought for a couple students, I grabbed some dog food. Upstairs in an empty classroom, the dog wolfed it all down and lapped up the cold water I'd brought her and then lay down for a rest. Meanwhile, my boss started calling around and eventually arranged to have someone from the pound pick her up. I was told she'd stay there ten days hoping they could re-unite her with her owner. I suppose I could have just left it at that, but I kept thinking about her little face and how relieved she'd seemed when I picked her up. At the supermarket she'd sighed in my arms, a deep shuddering sigh - before she nestled her chin against my arm.

I hate the idea that she was belonged to someone and either got lost, or was more likely abandoned. So when the shelter called to say she hadn't been claimed, I sort of insisted I get her back. The shelter guy warned against it, apparently "Bella" (the name I'd settled on in my head) was fussy and would only eat "meat." ("As opposed to what?" I wondered. A bowl of lint and pebbles?) She was fine eating dog food. I don't think it's right to euthanize her just because she doesn't want to eat rice and/or kimchi.

So Bella came back last Thursday, and my boss reluctantly agreed to foster her "only for ONE WEEK!" while I search for a new home. Early next week I'm taking her to my vet to get some tests done and vaccinations started to ensure she's healthy. She's so cute.



I've already had a couple people express some interest. There's an American family up in Seoul who say they've been looking for an adult dog. They've got a nice house with a backyard in a quiet neighbourhood and there's usually someone home throughout the day. They sound ideal, and so, fingers crossed I'll head up to Seoul next weekend so they can meet.



You know what's weird? My boss actually LOST his shih-tzu just three days before Bella showed up. His dog was named Dalki, and she got loose when his daughter brought the dog to his (almost ex) wife's house in aother city. He's really torn up about it and not ready to have another dog, but I think his heartache lended toward helping me save Bella.



This will be the second dog I've "rescued." Remember Wonder Dog? He's now living in Canada with a big family who dotes on him. Such a difference from when he first showed up.

Wonder Dog (now named Kaibee) enjoying a wonderful life:


Let's hope Bella is destined for a beautiful furture as well!

I'm Rambly because Achoo

My co-worker told me at the start of a class last week that one of my students had thrown up three times earlier in the day, and she really wasn't feeling well so if she needed to go, I should let her head to the washroom. I stopped and said "Uhhh, ok. But, I really don't want to get sick."
My co-worker laughed at me.
"I'm serious, Cindy. The kid sits right beside me." and I nodded toward where the little girl sat with her hand clenched over her mouth. In the classroom I spend a lot of the time standing at the board or leaning at the bureau where the CD player lives, but I do sit when the kids are working on stuff or if I have to mark. I'm at the end of the table which is formed into a semi-circle. A small half circle - and I've usually got students on either side of me. They're as close to me as if we were sitting next to each other on a bus - but it's even worse because they're angled to exhale (or cough, sneeze or *gag* barf) directly into the airspace that I'm inhaling.

I feel like I'm turning into Jack Nicholson in "As Good as it Gets," (Hi, Mark?) but I really hate getting sick. I'm washing my hands all the time and using alcoholy sanitizer when I don't have time to hit the Ladies' between classes and still, I actually wish I was teaching from inside a plexi-glass box. Or an air-conditioned Hazmat suit.

Dr. Cindy said, "You won't get sick. Maybe she just ate something not good."
"Orrrr," I countered, "Maybe she's got a wicked stomach flu. Seriously, can we move her for today?" (To, like, home?) So Cindy got the girl to move to the far end of the table just for the day, which was fine. It got me thinking back to my childhood when throwing up throughout the night, before school, or (all over your most favourite red plaid kilt and white tights in grade two) in school automatically earned you a stay-home-from-school-and-watch-cartoons card. No questions.

That's not often the case here, and I resent it. I think many of my students' parents are working and I know that Koreans drag their own sick bodies to work all the time when by all rights they should be staying home and getting better instead of infecting their co-workers. So it stands to reason they're probably not going to take time off to look after their sick children - and instead send them off to infect ME.

Look at these kids:

They're tiny. I can almost fit them in my pocket. Both of them. In one pocket.
They could live in my shoes. Both of them. In one shoe.

Anyways they're in grade one. They're six years old. Tiny little humans.
And THIS is the girl's bag!
It's REALLY HEAVY and I'm surprised she can carry it without toppling over. This isn't her only bag, either - she's got another one with her Taekwondo uniform and a few more books, because apparently she can only fit EIGHTEEN books into the pink knapsack!

You know what I carried around in my knapsack when I was six years old? Nothing! Because I didn't have a knapsack. I had a Holly Hobby lunchbox with a sandwich in it. That was my homework. Eat the sandwich.

That little girl goes from school to an "all subject" hagwon, to our English school, to Taekwondo and then for a piano lesson. Her parents run a very busy sushi restaurant. They're very nice people, but I still feel bad when their little girl knocks her forehead against the desk because she's unable to keep her eyes open and stay awake. Today she was coughing and sniffling, looking miserable. And that made two of us. There's something going around. In the next class, both students on either side of me were sick. The one who kept coughing without covering his mouth got moved.

I had a very sore throat Sunday and Monday and I should have realized that tends to be the first symptom I get when I'm about to get sick - but I hadn't really thought about it. Sure enough,...my temperature is 102 right now and I've got fire face/lungs. Can't breathe. Still, my sneezes feel like sinus-orgasms.

When my eight o'clock class ended today I schlepped to the washroom and after, as I was washing my hands, I noticed something in the mirror. I brushed my hair off my forehead and panicked, "Oh man, I'm really sick! What the hell?" There were angry red circles about the size of the end of a cigarette from my right temple down to beside my eye. Typhoid? Ebola? Holy shit! I brought my fingers up to feel the spots.

Oh.
They come off.

While marking my middle-school students' tests, I'd been tapping the side of my head with my thin red crayon.
Idiot.

Red Handed

I was out Saturday night with some friends and after dinner and such we took a stroll to the centre of town. There's a "park" which is really just a big oval with a bandshell at one end and a new spongy floored playground at the other. All around the perimeter of the park there are new exercise machines that have been installed so we were screwing around trying to determine their breaking-threshold strenuously working out. I'm joking - we were just trying them out, and most of them are quite cool. A free outdoor gym - nothing wrong with that,..but there's one that reminds me of Frankenstein's laboratory bed which completely flips you upside-down. Well actually you invert yourself, thereby controlling the speed at which your feet go airbourne and then you use the wheel-crank things on either side of the contraption to right yourself. This move targets your obliques, quadrophenias, and triceratops. (I have no bloody idea.) My friends didn't read the instructions, though, and thought it was Hee-Larry-Us to plunge me upside-downand refuse to let me back up. HATE!

Anyhow, about half-way around the park (and after me flipping out just a little bit) our party broke up and it was just the boyfriend and I still messing around. He'd already mentioned that I should go get my bag, which was sitting in the pavilion just over yonder in plain view. I told him not to worry about it, but a couple machines later he said he was going to get my bag because there was some guy milling around. We headed across the oval and when we were fairly close he broke away, running up to the guy who was now sitting near my bag - and he reached out and grabbed the guy's wrist.

Buddy had my wallet in one hand and all my money, that he'd removed and folded in half in the other!
YOINK!
My gentleman of a boyfriend said something that equated to "My dear sir, whatever are you doing? This is highly out of order!"
I was not so kind, and though I've never learned the Korean word for 'fucking thief,' I did call him tenbabydogs eighteen crazybadman assholes, and inquired if he wanted to die?

It's a good lesson for me. I've become really complacent when it comes to keeping things safe. People are always telling me to zip up my bag when I'm walking around and they're absolutely right. I've been trying to be more vigilant - and almost losing a couple hundred dollars has really got my attention. Korea's quite safe, but still,...I think I've gotten overly used to my surroundings and need to be far more alert.

I'd venture to say the world needs far more Lerts.

Meanwhile, I'm going to visit my bank and get a cash card, which is something I should have done a long time ago. I think it's been two or three years now since my CHB bank turned into Shinhan. However, I've still got a CHB card that is fraying and dented and on the verge of breaking. When I hit the ATM its like gambling, with me wondering if this is the time my card decides it's time to finally die. These days few people carry a lot of cash on them, so that thief must have thought he really hit the jackpot until he was foiled. Thievery FAIL -- lucky for me!

Oh, What a Perfect Day

I'm coming to the end of yet anther contract next week and I still had three days of vacation I didn't take during the past fifty-one weeks. I know I could roll them over, but I'm feeling like I NEED a vacation. Seriously. DAMN! So I ended up taking Wednesday off and just relaxed most of the day and then went out shopping and for dins. Just after I had gotten Wednesday approved, my friend e-mailed and invited me to a beach barbeque on Thursday. I considered switching days, but then decided to just take two days off. Why the hell not? (This made my co-workers VERY unhappy. Whereas they teach about three classes on days I'm there, they've got seven in a row when I'm not. HA!)

So we went to the beach. It had been cloudy since Tuesday night, but there hadn't been any rain. No problem. The temperature was perfect and there was a nice breeze coming in from the sea. I really had no idea what was going to happen. There aren't many hibachis here. I wondered if we were going to use those silly little gas powered grills. Nope. What'cha do is you dig a trench.

We were underneath a little grove of tall pine trees on the other side of the road from the beach.

That's my friend Jae-Hong's bum. He was the digger-of-the-trench, with his handy collapsable trowel.

While the trench was being dug, a dog showed up to see what was happening.



And then another dog.

Who rolled around on some astro-turf mat nearby.

Rolling around is cool.


Cute little doggies!


But, back to the barbeque.
Once the trench was dug, three piles of charcoal, pine cones and little branches were assembled. Then they were lit up with some blowtorch thingie!


That's my best friend Kyung-sook on the fire machine thingie.


Where there's fire, there's smoke.

That slab of styrofoam in the foreground was employed as a fan. My friends are awesome fire fanners.

Eventually grills were perched overtop the fires, placed on rocks positioned at the edges of the trench. And out came the meat.


First up was marinated beef.

That stuff is deeeeelish.

A few feet away, various vegetables - the usual suspects: lettuce, sesame leaf, garlic, kimchi, and hot peppers were being prepared along with dixie cups of gochujang (soybean paste.)

The woman in the background is so nice, but I couldn't understand why she wore high heels to the beach. Ah well.

That slab of styrofoam in the background was my seat. That dog in the foreground was my buddy.


And the meat cooked.


And the meat was done.
And the meat was tasty.


And I got yelled at for feeding the tasty meat to my dog buddy.
But seriously, how could I resist such a cute under-bite? The white (and apparently stupid) dog had wandered off to sniff trees or collect shells,...whatever it is beach-dogs do.

Who's a good dog?

YOU ARE!

When everyone wasn't busy yelling at me, they were happily chowing down.


When the beef just about disappeared, slabs of marinated pork appeared!


Which was eventually cut up into bite sized morsels.

With garlic. Lawd, I loves me some garlic.

Soju flowed, and everyone got happy and full and less attentive toward my dog-feeding ways. I made a friend who snuggled in and rested on my pillowy thigh.

I picked out all the twigs and stuff and even snagged the scissors to cut out the burrs burried in his fur.

After the chatting and laughing and cherry-tomato food-fight, we started to clean up and my new pal went for another roll on the astro-turf in the sunshine.


And (if Nomad reads this) we left our area pristine when we departed.


We headed to a noraebang up the road which was fun, but I snuck out on my own to enjoy the beach a bit more. The afternoon was too nice to be in a dark (albeit huge) basement singing room with Korean songs blaring. The clouds had dissapated and the sun was shining; it was just the most gorgeous of summer days. (The shit that's officially called summer - in July and August, I call swelter-hell.)

I watched this guy struggle for a long time. There just wasn't enough wind to get his sails up but he wasn't letting that stop him. He yanked violently on the bar, creating his own wind, about 985 times while I sat watching him.


Ahhhhh, such a perfect day.

This scene always makes me think of Gilligan.

I'm glad I shared it with you.